‘Zara’s Song’: A New Story by JM Landels

The breeze off the water is balmy here in Rheran compared to the northeasterlies that scour Caella at this time of year. But Zara pulls the black cloak tight across her chest anyway, shivering from a chill that has nothing to do with wind. The clank and rumble of the anchor chain seem to vibrate through her tightly wound body. She watches the cog sway off into deeper water, carrying the sleeping Princess High of Brandishear, Gwannyn.

Former Princess, Zara thinks, correcting herself. Or former Gwannyn. That role, and that name, are Zara’s now.

There is a strange ache she feels in the centre of her being, knowing she will never see or speak to her double again. It is the part she has trained most of her life to play, in a play that has been in production longer than she’s been alive. As a child, she dreamed of being an actor — of fame and adulation, and of being admired for her talents. She will have fame and adulation, but none must know of the talent she brings to this role. She feels destiny settle on her shoulders and seep through her body, wrapping her more tightly than the cloak.

As the cog makes its way out of the seagate, she lifts her head higher, blinking away the windborne salt spray.